Nothing Else Matters
by Adli
Summary: (Pre-Buu) Vegeta's mind is playing tricks on him with only days left until Goku is set to return from the Other World to participate in the World Tournament. Can Bulma help soothe his thoughts? What ultimately made Vegeta snap? My attempt to dive into his psyche. Warning: a little dark and involves mature content. B/V


Disclaimer: DBZ all belongs to the wonderful mind of Akira Toriyama and anyone who has rights to it. I'm just having fun with the characters and promise to give them back intact… for the most part. :-)

Author's Notes: This story is set directly before the Buu saga. It is my attempt to delve into what Vegeta's psyche might have been like the days leading up to the World Tournament and his epic fight with Goku. You could consider it an indirect prequel to "When It Counts," although it certainly stands alone. There is a light lemon (somewhere between a lime and a lemon) that I tried to keep tame in an attempt to comply with the norms of this website. If you're not into that, consider this your warning! The italic portion in the beginning will become self-explanatory when you start reading. Also, thanks to my friends over at the "We're Just Saiyan" community over at Google+ for all the brainstorming and inspiration. Great group of people!

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_Smoke billowed up from the meat sizzling in a skillet as it cooked. There was no scent to accompany it, but Vegeta didn't think much of it. His shoulder rested against the kitchen doorway, arms folded across his chest as he watched his woman and son chatter mindlessly. The boy was in the process of setting the table and Bulma was programming Capsule Corporation proprietary kitchen robots to lay out their food. Eating meals together had become somewhat of a routine for them over the years. There was something familiar and comfortable about the scene before him now, and yet, it was unsettling at the same time._

_Trunks had just finished laying out the last of the silverware and settled down in his chair to wait for his food while his mother finished programming the last commands into their kitchen robots._

_Bulma turned to meet Vegeta's eyes and smiled. "Breakfast is ready."_

_Pushing off the doorframe, Vegeta tried to shake off the strange feeling as he took his place at the head of the table. While it was customary for them to share meals together, for the life of him, Vegeta could not remember the last time it had been breakfast. The full-blooded Saiyan was often awake before sunset to begin his workout routine and training. Bulma liked to sleep late, so Trunks usually had breakfast with his grandparents before heading off to school during the week. On weekends, the boy slept late like his mother and sometimes skipped breakfast all together._

_The robots immediately started loading the table with food and the two Saiyans wordlessly began to pile it on their own plates. _

"_Can we have pancakes too, Mom?" Trunks asked, even as he helped himself to a Saiyan-sized serving._

_Bulma rolled her eyes and shook her head no. "You have plenty of steak and eggs. Pancakes will have to wait for another day." _

"_But Dad wants pancakes too," the boy replied through a mouthful of omelet._

"_Leave me out of this," Vegeta muttered in between bites. _

"_And don't talk with your mouth full," added Bulma as she stood up and walked to the refrigerator._

_Vegeta braced himself for what was sure to be a smart-ass remark from Trunks. _

_It never came. _

_Half a beat had barely passed when his attention was drawn to sharp gasp coming from behind him. Alarmed, Vegeta glanced up to see the color draining from his son's face. The boy's lips formed a silent O, his eyes wide in fear._

"_Mom…"_

_Slowly, as if his muscles were somehow being weighed down by an invisible force, Vegeta turned his head in his woman's direction. She was facing him, her left hand on the kitchen counter, her right hand holding her chest. Red liquid poured from a gaping wound above her breast as she stared at it in shock. Bulma's lips moved, but Vegeta couldn't hear the sound. He was paralyzed, frozen in place, staring in disbelief as Bulma's complexion turned paler and paler. Just like that, her body became a crumpled heap on the floor._

_Vegeta swiveled back to Trunks just in time to see a beam shoot out of the darkness behind him. _

_Darkness? _

_The Saiyan Prince blinked in surprise. Why was it dark? Weren't they just having breakfast? _

_The eight-year old boy fell immediately, torso draped over the kitchen table as blood oozed rapidly from a wound on his breast. For an endless moment in time, all Vegeta could see was an older version of his son, long purple locks covering his face, eyes staring unseeingly above him, lying face up on the dirt with a similar wound. The Prince's breath caught in his throat, his chest felt heavy, his head frozen in place as he stared in shock. Such a familiar scene…_

_The paralysis that had overcome him abruptly broke and his chair fell with a loud bang as he leapt up in anger._

"_Show yourself!" he yelled at the darkness from where the beam had come._

_A light chuckle filled the air, eerily familiar and more bone-chilling than ever. "Vegeta," the soft, melodic voice floated into his consciousness. "My sweet monkey prince. What a touching display of emotion for your little… family." The sarcasm that coated that last word only served to enrage Vegeta further._

_The Saiyan willed himself to breathe and gain control of his emotions, but all he could see was the pool of blood gathering on his kitchen floor. Before the figure had even started to reveal itself from its hiding place, Vegeta had already placed the voice. It was one he would never forget. A ball of ki gathered in his palm in preparation for the upcoming fight._

"_I didn't come for a fight," the disemboweled voice purred. _

"_You just killed my family," Vegeta growled dangerously. _

_A pair of creamy white clawed feet stepped from the darkness, followed by white and purple shins and a matching thick white tail slashing dangerously behind like an agitated lion. _

"_Consider it a favor." _

_The words, now harsh and angry, were spoken as the creature finished revealing itself. In the blink of an eye, they were no longer in Capsule Corporation. The warm beige tile of the kitchen had been replaced by a cold metal floor, barren and unwelcoming as the ship Vegeta knew it belonged to. He blinked at the bright lights shining on him. Inexplicably, his hands were tied behind his back, rendering the Saiyan Prince's hands completely motionless. He pulled at his bindings, wondering what was strong enough to immobilize him like this. _

"_I always knew you were pathetic, but really, Vegeta…" the voice in front of him drawled in amusement. "This is very disappointing, even for you."_

"_What the fuck?" Vegeta muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "You're dead. I saw Trunks kill you myself."_

"_Delusional, too."_

_Finally, Vegeta lifted his gaze to meet his tormentor's blood red eyes evenly. "What did you do with the woman and the boy?"_

"_Stop asking such inane questions," Frieza snapped. His tail still swished behind him in irritation. "They are dead."_

_Vegeta roared in anger, tugging at his bindings with immense force to no avail. "I swear I will kill you, once and for all! I am stronger than you now!"_

_Frieza unexpectedly threw his head back and laughed heartily. "Is that what you think?" _

_In two quick steps, he was standing mere inches from Vegeta. His white fist materialized directly into the Prince's stomach, knocking the wind out of him and making him double over in pain. Just as quickly, Frieza turned his back, leaving Vegeta gasping for breath._

"_You see what I mean?"_

_Frieza's words didn't seem to be directed at Vegeta this time. The room had changed once again. The cold metallic spaceship was now gray stone. The massive space was decorated in deep shades of red and contrasting black with touches of gold. The familiar emblem of the House of Vegeta was elaborately embroidered into a large tapestry hanging behind a throne. The tall man standing by the throne, sporting a goatee and red cape, was none other than King Vegeta himself. _

_Vegeta stared at his father unflinchingly. He felt he should have been surprised at the other Saiyan's presence, like there was some piece of vaguely relevant information stored in the back of his mind that should have been important at the moment, yet was right outside of his grasp. All his mind could process was curiosity. Why was his father here and why did he seem to be in league with Frieza? _

"_Honestly, I'm wondering why I even let him live…" Frieza added, his tone bored and unimpressed._

"_All that time living on that backwater planet does seem to have affected him negatively," the King agreed._

_Vegeta's eyes narrowed at his father dangerously. "I am a Super Saiyan, you prick!" he yelled. "I'm the Legendary! I'm more than you could ever dream of!"_

_Both the King and Frieza laughed at that. The King's mirth died first and he spoke. "Did you get hit on the head like Bardock's idiot son? Don't be ridiculous, Vegeta; you're nothing more than a pathetic Earthling."_

_Vegeta growled in anger. "I am the Prince of All Saiyans!"_

_He threw his head back, desperately attempting to tap into his hidden power to no avail. His mysterious binds wouldn't break loose and he couldn't even feel, much less summon, his ki. Why did he feel so powerless? _

"_You are nothing but an ape," Frieza snapped, his eyes just two red slits on his face. "I should put you down like the animal you are, but that would be too merciful a punishment for your defiance."_

_Had it all been a dream? His ascension, the battles against the androids and Cell, his son from the future? His life on Earth?_

"_Father, what are you doing?" Vegeta called out as the King turned his back. "I thought you had more pride than this."_

"_Of course I have pride!" the King retorted, turning only his head to meet Vegeta's eyes across the room. "I'm doing this for the Saiyan people. A people you have clearly forgotten while living with your weakling mate and disgusting half-breed son."_

"_The Saiyan people are dead," Vegeta replied incredulously. "The planet doesn't exist; Frieza saw to that! And my son is stronger than even you could hope to be, old man."_

"_Dead?" Frieza intervened. "Tell me, Vegeta, if your planet doesn't exist, how is it that we're on it?"_

_Vegeta frowned and glanced around the room again. It certainly looked like the throne room in his father's castle… what he remembered of it anyway. It had been so long ago. But how could that be if the planet had been destroyed for decades? And how was his father still alive? For that matter, how was Frieza still alive? He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. _

"_This isn't real," he muttered, more to himself than in response to his former master. Then he glared up at the creature. "Where are my woman and son?" _

"_You saw it yourself. They are dead."_

"_I will wish them back, then!" Vegeta growled. "Take me back to Earth!" When Frieza didn't respond, Vegeta trained his eyes on his father's back. "Father!"_

_From his spot by the throne, King Vegeta huffed audibly. "You are no son of mine." _

_Vegeta roared in frustration, tugging uselessly on his binds. The image of Bulma and Trunks lying on Capsule Corporation's kitchen floor in pools of blood filled his mind's eye, overtaking his father's throne room, and with it, his father and Frieza. He had to find a way out of this. He had to go back home. _

_Home? _

_The thought gave him pause. If Planet Vegeta wasn't indeed destroyed, wouldn't that mean he was already home? When had he started thinking of Earth as home? Frieza's voice broke him out of his confused jumble of thoughts._

"_Vegeta," he spoke. Vegeta glanced up at him only to realize the creature was talking to his father instead. "Send out the order to destroy Earth."_

"_NO!" the younger Saiyan snarled. His father ignored him._

"_Complete destruction, or simply a population purge?" the King asked conversationally._

"_I want that wasteland annihilated," Frieza responded coldly, his lips curled into a cruel smile. "Blow it out of existence."_

_Vegeta stared in shock. Blown out of existence? If the planet was completely destroyed, he wouldn't even have access to the dragonballs anymore. He wouldn't be able to undo any of it… Bulma… Trunks…_

"_NO!" Vegeta cried again, this time louder._

"_Be quiet, Vegeta, you are embarrassing yourself," Frieza stated. Before Vegeta could even blink, the creature was standing in front of the Prince and he found himself with both feet dangling in the air and a thick white tail wrapped tightly around his neck. The side of Frieza's purple lips curled up in a twisted version of a smile. "In fact, I think you should watch." He turned to the King. "Take him with you, Vegeta. It'll be a good lesson."_

Vegeta's eyes snapped open with a loud gasp. He lifted his head and glanced around the darkness wildly for a few seconds, unsure of where he was. As his eyes adapted to the pitch black, he started making out the familiar shapes of bedroom furniture. With a sigh, he relaxed his head back into the plump pillow and ran a hand over his face before threading his fingers in his black mane and glancing at the bedside clock Bulma had insisted on keeping. The red block numbers read 3:12. Still at least another two hours before he would have to be up.

He released another sigh and threw a glance at the woman who usually slept by his side. A pair of wide blue eyes met his calmly in the darkness, causing Vegeta to blink in surprise. Bulma was lying on her side, her right hand propping her head up, worry evident in her face. A perfectly manicured eyebrow raised in expectation.

"Bad dream again?" she asked, clearly unsurprised.

"It's nothing," Vegeta grumbled as he turned his eyes away. He was about to turn his back to her to get back to sleep when he felt a soft hand running over his toned abdomen.

"Want to talk about it?" Bulma murmured.

"No."

Bulma rolled her eyes, then shifted so that the arm had had been propping up her head was outstretched directly under her, her head resting on her bicep right by Vegeta's shoulder. The new position brought her torso closer to the stubborn Saiyan and she took advantage of the nearness to continue caressing his chest. Although Vegeta wasn't immediately responding, he also wasn't pushing her away and that was usually enough for Bulma to interpret as encouragement.

"You haven't had one like that in a while," she said.

Vegeta frowned. When they had first started sharing a bed, he had awoken several times to find Bulma standing by the bed far away from him, fear evident in her eyes. It was then that he had first learned that he often reacted violently in his sleep when he experienced nightmares. At least he hadn't attempted to attack her with his ki while he slept. It was the only reason he had even agreed to make their room arrangement a permanent one when she insisted on it.

"Was I talking in my sleep again?" he demanded.

Bulma nodded as she lightly traced straight patterns between his chest and abdomen with a fingernail.

"What did I say?" Vegeta asked, a hand grasping Bulma's in an attempt to refocus her attention in their conversation.

She shrugged a shoulder and met his eyes again. "I have no idea. It didn't sound like any language I've heard before."

Surprised, Vegeta let go of Bulma's hand and once again threaded his fingers through his hair thoughtfully. So he had resorted to dreaming in his native tongue again. There was no other explanation—it was the only other language in which he ever had dreams. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had one of those. Certainly not since coming to Earth, that was for sure, for it had been years since he had even held a conversation in the language of his people. Dreams of Frieza and his father, on the other hand, were uncomfortably common. They weren't usually in cahoots with each other, but they sometimes shared space in his subconscious, torturing him with memories of his failures.

On the other hand, dreams of Bulma and Trunks were very rare. And he was sure this was the first time he had dreamed of them being killed before his eyes. His own reaction to their violent deaths was unnerving, to say the least. Sure, he had reluctantly grown somewhat fond of the people he had come to consider as his family, if only in his thoughts.

After Cell's defeat and his rival Kakarott's untimely death seven years before, Vegeta had found himself in an uncertain situation. He had been sure that his ascension to Super Saiyan would make him the strongest in the universe, but in the end, his overconfidence has proven to be his downfall. Feeling lost and beaten, Vegeta had returned to Capsule Corporation, wondering if he should simply take another spaceship and disappear from this forsaken backwater planet once and for all.

Ultimately, Bulma had reminded him that there was nothing for him in space anymore, other than the broken remnants of the Cold Empire and many enemies who wanted nothing more than to see him dead in revenge. She was only partially right, although he had kept that to himself. If he had really wanted to, he knew he would have been able to crush his enemies and take Frieza's empire back for himself like he had always planned. Kakarott may have been his strongest rival, but now that he was gone, no one but Gohan at that time could have truly matched Vegeta's strength; and Gohan wasn't interested in fighting Vegeta.

Regardless, the idea was no longer very appealing to him. The thought of leaving his son, his heir, the boy who had proved he would grow to be powerful beyond Vegeta's wildest dreams, to be trained by his third-class rival's brat turned his stomach. And thus, he had made the decision to stay, if only temporarily.

To this day, Vegeta was still convinced he could take a Capsule spaceship whenever he wanted and leave forever, no matter how much he secretly enjoyed the blue-haired woman's company, both in and out of bed. But it seemed like his dreams were showing him otherwise. Had he started to care for them at a deeper level than he had thought before? He still felt shaken at the wave of emotions crashing through him when they had been killed in his dream. It had seemed real and his helpless desperation even more so. His father's words about his Saiyan pride had struck a deep chord and Frieza's taunting enraged him, despite knowing they were both dead and gone forever.

Bulma's hands on his chest again chased his thoughts away and he glanced back at her in the dark room.

It had been a dream.

His mind was playing tricks on him because he was anxious about the upcoming tournament, he was certain of it. Kakarott's imminent 24-hour return was weighing on his mind, awakening insecurities Vegeta had long thought buried and forgotten. Even now, as the last vestiges of Frieza's voice rang in his head, his reactions in the dream seemed like a faraway memory, foreign and silly.

"If you don't want to talk about it, how about I make you forget your dream?" Bulma purred as her hand slid further down his abdomen to the waistband of the thin pair of cotton undershorts he had taken to wearing to sleep once their son had become old enough to wander unbidden into their room at night.

Vegeta's mouth curled into a smirk and he let her hand caress his flesh teasingly, curious as to what she was going to do next. Bulma's fingertips softly grazed her prize, causing it to react immediately to her ministrations. Unable to contain it any longer, Vegeta grasped her hand and moved it away in one swift action. Using his hold on her, he flipped her on her back, keeping both her hands above her as he kneeled between her legs.

She smiled up at him and Vegeta was taken aback at the warm feeling that filled him in response. It was such a genuine smile, so warm and trusting. Bulma had stopped fearing him years ago, even before she had invited him to come live at her house. He'd studied her curiously for months, distrusting her intentions, wondering what her ulterior motive could possibly be, but to this day, he had yet to find one. She simply cared. He didn't think he had ever met a single creature who had trusted, much less cared, for him so implicitly and unquestioningly. He had done nothing to deserve it and had never asked for it, and yet she gave it freely. It was a strange feeling that he had slowly come to terms with over the years, but it still baffled him. He chose to ignore it, instead focusing on the physical sensations her touch provoked. Those were easier to deal with; those he understood perfectly well.

Bulma tried to tug her arms free of his iron hold, but he refused to allow it. It was an unspoken game they played. For as dominant and overpowering as she was in the face of the rest of the world, in their bedroom, she enjoyed submitting to him. She pretended to be annoyed, but he could tell she enjoyed their little tug of war and in the end, she always gave in to him. Tonight, it seemed like she wasn't in the mood to put up much of a fight. She stopped trying to move her arms almost immediately and arched her back silently as Vegeta moved his head to graze his lips against each of her breasts in turn. Her chest was heaving and he could hear her heart pounding against it.

He brought both her wrists together to grip with a single hand and slid his newly freed hand down the side of her torso and thighs, teasing the skin beneath her skimpy nightgown with calloused hands. He watched her bite her lip to prevent herself from voicing her pleasure and decided he was going to make it his goal to have her writhing and screaming beneath him before they were finished for the night.

His hand moved slowly under her nightgown and up towards her center. He was pleased to find it slick and ready for him already.

"Seems like your dreams were much more pleasant than mine tonight," he murmured, his voice sensually low and husky from a combination of sleep and lust.

Bulma licked her lips with the tip of her tongue. "Believe me, I like the reality much better…" she assured him.

"Show me," Vegeta demanded as he started moving his fingers against her wet flesh.

Bulma sucked in a sharp breath at the sensations. Vegeta watched the bliss on her face with rapt fascination. That was also something that had changed in him since they had begun this relationship. He had had his share of women over the years since he had come of age. They had been casual encounters involving generally attractive female aliens that had anatomies compatible with his Saiyan biology. He had never had any other woman more than once, much less formed an emotional bond with anyone before. His encounters had been fleeting, lasting long enough to satisfy him before he was on his way. Never before had he cared whether his partner felt good, but for some reason, watching Bulma writhe in pleasure was one of his favorite parts about having sex with her. It aroused him like no one else ever had and he found himself not even caring how long it took for her to feel satisfied.

Before long, he had her flushed and sweaty, one leg wrapped around his hip and the other outstretched and tense as she cried out in intense pleasure. Her clothing had been discarded somewhere along the way and his underwear was the only barrier left between them. Bulma's hands, now free, immediately moved to rid him of the offending garment and she wrapped both her legs around him to bring him closer. He allowed her, craving the closeness of their union and looking forward to the mind-numbing pleasure that was sure to make him forget all the stray thoughts his nightmare had caused.

They both groaned in unison as he filled her completely. She arched her back, pressing her breasts against his chest and pushing his pelvis as close to hers as possible with a tight grip on his hips. Vegeta lowered his head to her earlobe and gently brushed his lips against the sensitive area. Bulma shivered in pleasure and bucked against him. He began to move against her, his head buried in the crook of her neck. Their hands were everywhere at once, as if they couldn't get enough of each other. As Bulma felt his hold tighten on her in the last bits of remaining control he had, she pulled his head down for a searing kiss. Neither of them could tell how long they moved like this before he pulled away and grunted against her neck. She gasped and shuddered with him as waves of pleasure wracked them both.

With one final roar, Vegeta finished inside of her and braced himself on his forearms to avoid putting the bulk of his muscled body on her frail form. They were both heaving for air and clutching each other for dear life. Bulma threaded her fingers in the hair at the base of his neck and massaged his scalp gently, lazily, causing waves of pleasure to shoot through his body again, mixing with the pleasant aftershocks he was still experiencing from their union. After a few more seconds, Vegeta finally pulled his full weight from her body and rolled on his back next to her. Bulma turned to look at him with a languid smile.

"Yeah, reality is definitely better…" she murmured as she stretched her arms above her and curled her toes.

Vegeta smirked, but didn't respond. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bulma prop her head up on her hand again and turned to look at him. For a moment, it looked like she had something to say, but then she seemed to think better of it. With a quick shake of her head, she leaned over, planted a kiss on his cheek and settled back on her side of the bed with her back to him.

The eerily real nightmare he had just had now seemed like a distant memory, something that had happened to him a lifetime ago. Frieza was clearly gone forever, sliced into bits by a future version of his son from an alternate timeline. His father was dead as well, murdered by the tyrant in a failed attempt to overthrow him. His planet and his people were nothing more than floating dust and debris in orbit. And the only other Saiyan to have survived until recently was in the Other World, having nobly sacrificed himself for the good of his friends, family, and the planet—something that still disgusted Vegeta to this day for reasons he couldn't name, even in his own thoughts.

His only shot at proving his worth had died along with his rival. And now… now, he had that chance again. Kakarott—or Goku, as he was known on Earth—would be back for 24 hours and Vegeta had every intention of meeting his rival in battle to prove his worth once and for all. The battle lust that always hummed in his blood was singing in anticipation now. He knew he would do whatever was necessary to accomplish his goal this time. He would demonstrate that he was still the true Saiyan Prince, the strongest in the universe, as was his birthright. His father would no longer haunt his dreams with words of scorn at his lost pride.

And with that renewed determination, Vegeta turned on his side and draped his arm around Bulma's midsection, pulling her tightly against his hard chest. Already half-asleep, she let out a low moan of delight and settled against him. He buried his face against her neck, allowing himself to take comfort in her warmth and the intimacy of their relationship for now.

So maybe he had formed some sort of attachment to this woman and their son, he admitted to himself. It didn't matter. Nothing else would matter the day of the tournament.

Nothing but his battle with Kakarott.

Nothing.


End file.
